Mental discord

My racing thoughts have tripped over into hypomania. But without the euphoria. I can’t think straight, concentrate or keep still. Just thinking thinking thinking and talking to myself in my own mind and then answering myself but there’re whispers of other ‘selves’ also talking and wanting attention. I’m beside myself. Sweating. Agitated. Anxious. I’m not doing my work too busy again posting, writing, reading, walking a path through the parking lot, thinking, thinking, thinking, music, art, friends I’ve lost, rhyming words. I keep holding my head in my hands but that doesn’t help. It doesn’t calm me ground me. Normally I take an Alzam but they’re at home. I try telling myself ‘centre, centre, centre’ but then my mind goes ‘centre, centre, centre, shopping centre, oh my god I need new shoes I’m going out tonight what if they break that’s so embarrassing what am I going to do…….’ Then I bring myself round again and tell myself ‘centre, centre, centre’ but that turns into ‘service centre’ because I need a new spare tyre and a jack because the other day my car broke down and I realised I had no spare tyre and no jack but lucky that wasn’t the problem…

centre…. centre…. centre….

Its still not working.


Aloe, ‘aloe

I did it! I left the house and went on a mild adventure. Granted I wasn’t alone. It was with V, but I’m not going to get technical about it. The main thing is I FINALLY ventured out the house! We drove to a small beach town close to home. So take a ride with me, there’s a sea view, the splendor of aloes, a railway line, a bicycle and more. Enjoy!



Home Sweet Home (the sequel)

this week’s been crazy
and maybe just maybe
i’ve got my sweet home
now just need to take a loan
the offer’s been signed and sent
and I await his consent

I’ve hardly slept
had days when I’ve wept
or snapped and yelled
‘cos I’ve been overwhelmed
despondent then excited
then just downright frightened

I must keep the end in sight
because in the end it’ll all be alright
now if only I could sleep
that would sure be a treat

The time has come

I’m terrified! It’s back to work tomorrow after an absence of almost 2 months.

Firstly, do I still have my job? That is, either a job within the company or my job as it was before I left. My concern is valid. On my return to work after a previous hospitalisation 5 years ago, I began my first day back learning a new job. Ya get my drift, right. I’m worried…. very, very worried.

And secondly there’s the curiosity factor. The surprise to see me, the little-bit-frightened to see me (‘cos ignorance) and can’t quite make eye contact, the questions, the gossiping and ultimately the judgment.

Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages? I heard you were sick, what was wrong with you?

Oooohmehgod! I’m bipolar for godness sake. I’ll rattle off the truth, social boundaries be damned:
Well, ….. suicidal ………. psych hospital ……. suicide watch, and then …… destabilising treatment ….. horrible withdrawal …………. sick …………… human misery ………… mostly now I just have diarrhea”

And then would come that standard reply: “Ooooh!….. aaaah, um, I’m so sorry, well, um…. welcome back. I’m glad you’re better. You’re looking so good!”

time has come1 - chuchy5-deviantart-com

They will tell me I look good, I look well, I look fine. But they don’t understand, my illness is invisible. (source:

I know some of them would mean well, but………….. Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgghhhhhhhhhhhh! I look good ‘cos of makeup, but I’m certainly not better. Not cured! I’m not even adequately medicated at this point. This is only another new beginning of another new cycle of experimenting which new drug I can tolerate. So NO! I’m not better, not cured of my insanity. But I can’t say that.

Lemme tell you, Lover is not just a pretty face, he gave me good advice – deflect the question, people like to talk about themselves, and if you have to, answer indirectly, he said.

So I’ve worked on my strategy and a few replies:
I haven’t seen you in ages, where have you been? Ag, I wasn’t well at the end of the year, but I’m much better now. Tell me, how was your christmas and new year? Did you do anything special? Boom…deflect!

What was wrong with you? It’s personal. I’d rather not talk about it. But thank you for your concern. By the way I love your dress! The colour looks gorgeous on you. Where did you get it from? OR I don’t really want to talk about it ‘cos it’s quite personal. But I’m so glad to be back at work *forced laugh* How was your christmas break?


time has come2 - deviantart-comsource:

Wishes for a kinder year

May your bipolar not consume you
May your mania be worthwhile
May your nights not be too sleepless
And your rage not volatile

May your depression leave not linger
May your meds respond in style
May your anxiety release its grip
And leave you with a smile

May the train always stop at your station
May the taxi be on time
Your chocolate never melted
And no one tell you “but you look just fine?”

Here’s to breathing, hoping and above all coping. May 2016 be a year that is kind.

A whimper of a war cry

A new discovery about venlafaxine withdrawal – it’s an activity best enjoyed with company. Nothing like distraction to keep those fears and demons at bay. At least for a little while anyway.

Lover went to work today. Knowing I would be home alone I woke up this morning with The Fear perched on my chest. So heavy it had expelled all the air from my lungs, it’s face so close to mine it was only a blur. The Fear leaned forward and whispered these words in my ear:


How do I live if I can’t breath? Without breathe, life is not sustainable. When I close my eyes The Fear is there. When I open my eyes The Fear is there. When I do laundry, make coffee, have a cigarette, The Fear is always there. It stalks me by day and invades my dreams at night. It keeps me frozen in place because I know it lies in wait for me.

I try a new mantra – this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass….. But the mantra fails as it morphs into – will this pass? Will this ever pass, I hope this passes, please let this pass, why is it not passing? Uh oh, I think I’m going to pass out.

I have no peace. When I try to rest The Fear accelerates my heartbeat and I feel sick and sweaty. A dread, a foreboding my constant affliction. My heart pounding inside my head and I chew anxiously on my thumb’s fingernail. A professional thief he is, The Fear. Stealing my peace, my patience and composure, my self-confidence, self-esteem and sorely testing my courage.

What was is Braveheart roared?

“They may take our lives, but they’ll never take our freedom”

So, to The Fear, if I dare say….. You may take my body, but you’ll never take my mind….

This will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass, this will pass……. I fucking hope this will pass…….

Pardon me, some rage slipped out

I finally burrowed out of my dark flat into the brightness of the real world today. To go shopping. At a (dreaded) shopping mall.

Skinny people everywhere

Skinny people everywhere


Between the plastic manequins draped with the latest skinny fashions, the traumatic change rooms and the queue’s, I never try anything on. I cross my fingers and hope it fits. Wandering aimlessly, I can’t imagine fitting into that streamlined dress, or that cotton top, or that jersey, t-shirt, jacket……. My eating disorders ricochet inside my head. Convinced I resemble a starving Etheopian with Kwashiorkor, I gave up, my mood low and my feet aching.

My round pot belly is out of proportion to the rest of my body

My round pot belly is out of proportion to the rest of my body


But I needed one of those one terabyte thingies. The salesman tells me the special’s sold out. I look at him, waiting for options. He looks back at me, blinking. I say, well don’t you have any in the back? He goes off and returns with an older gentleman who tells me the same thing, madam we are out of stock, but you can take this one instead. And the genius points to a more expensive brand. Oh, for the same price though, I enquire. He says no. I say, well then that’s not a choice, you are forcing me to purchase the more expensive brand. He says, sorry we’re out of stock, his gaze shifts into the distance and he starts picking his nose.

WELL, my brain goes ENGAGE RAGE. I have a vague recollection of loud words coming hot and fast off my tongue while waving my hands above my head in a muddy impression of “Cheaters vs Jerseylisious”. I ranted about Mr Big Corporation preying on the General Consumer, we’re a ‘lamb to the slaughter’ being reduced to impotent victims yadda yadda . I know I stamped my foot at one point. That sent the first saleman running, yes running like Usain Bolt, away from me and to the safe enclave of his fellow colleagues a few feet away.

Even I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of my rage

Even I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of my rage



But I did need the terabyte thingie. So I cursed the older salesman who had by this stage taken his finger out his nose and was staring at me with a slack jaw. I don’t recall what else I shouted, but the fiasco finished off with a Shame on you, SHAME ON YOU, dressing down to the older salesman, before I wobbled away, shaking, jerking, twitching, to the cashier.

This is why I don’t like shopping. Between the change room lighting, people pushing and bumping, long queue’s and sore feet, keeping vigilant for pick-pocketers, my tolerance wears thin, triggers start popping, and all it takes is a salesman absentmindedly fingering his nose, to set me off.



it’s been a while, since i’ve been around
I can’t explain, just been overwhelmed
by life and blogs, and things between
friendships, fathers, a future unseen

sleepless by night, so tired by day
insomnia called me, and there I have stayed
no rest for the wicked, or so they say
I must be a sinner, for here I decay










stepped into the real world, a change of pace
take heed my warning, don’t make this mistake…..
an interesting venture, but not to repeat
for this bipolar who wants her own peace

I went on a diet and lost some weight
then put it back on, now I’m out of shape
I started a club, that meets in a pub
to give singles a nudge to stay in touch
went to a concert, a dream come true
had to leave early, it was all too new

romantic puddle







I’ve acquired a boyfriend, who would’ve guessed
he’s kind, and he’s calm, with a nice hairy chest
he thinks i’m an angel, it’s early days yet
but the hard part is over, bipolar’s addressed
he hasn’t run screaming, so hope for the best
that he’ll be outstanding from all of the rest

my shrink closed up shop without telling me
betrayed and abandoned is how I now feel
my new doc’s a man, with an outrageous fee
he’d better be worth it, have to wait and see

been booked off from work for a week of rest
bipolar insomnia must be addressed
Clozapine™ might make me drool, like a fool
but I’m getting some sleep, so its all super cool

after this rest, I’m recharged, all nouveau
tomorrow a date, with my brand new beau
I’ll get back on my diet, so no more gateau
back to work monday, and on with the show

Panic attack

the rain falls outside through mist that fogs my eyes
with tears that belong to a past that was never meant to be
while doom marches up behind me dragging his black leather cloak
he shrouds me with the weight of it, ties a knot around my neck
it heaves the breath from my lungs, the oxygen from my blood
a nightmare come alive, I scream but no sound escapes my lips
I claw at the knot but my arms don’t move, stuck beside my sides
doom stands laughing at the theatre of raw fear and desperation
I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m convinced I am dying about to be dead
when the little pink one hits my stomach and dissolves in my head